


Dead brought back to life

by NuttersAscend



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Beware, Gen, Gore, Second Chances, friendship fluff as silver linings, this is an extremely dark work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-10-27 12:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17766863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuttersAscend/pseuds/NuttersAscend
Summary: A person who was not supposed to exist, was born in an alternate universe. Because he meddled, he paid the price. Outsiders should mind their own business! On the brink of insanity, a golden chance is bestowed to him. Will he be able to protect the ones this time or not?





	1. The death of Sawada Tsunayoshi ,the grounded sky

He stared in horror. My bad, it seemed like a mix of regret, disgust, self-loathing and horror. His face scrunched up, his eyebrows furrowed, teeth gritting. He seemed to be sweating profusely, his whole face red. His fists crunched up and dyed in blood. When he tried to check if the other was alive, blood smeared on the other's shirt, mixing with the already red colored shirt and creating a beautiful dye.

_But there was no pulse_

_There was no heartbeat_

_There were no signs of breathing, the other's chest was still_

_There was no fluttering of eyes, no pulsing of eyes_

There were currently two people on the scene, one alive and the other… _in a deep, eternal sleep._  At least that's what his hysterical mind screamed, denial engulfing him. The sunset enveloped the two figures, illustrating his feelings of the light going out of his life.

It was an accident, at least, that's what a third person would say. The survivor thought otherwise,  _it was murder,_  according to him.

In a lonely street in Namimori, in the transitioning time of light to dark, a murder had occurred. The murderer was currently in the scene, holding the body, making it stand,  _making it live_. Then he proceeded to drag the corpse along the streets. The serene face of the body aroused no suspicion from the few witnesses present in the scene. It also helped that the murderer was in total denial, his face completely calm, his belief lying in the illusion that his only hope giver was just dreaming beautiful dreams. His savior deserved at least that much.

Shuffling along, they moved away from the dark alley and walked in the streets. Crossing a bridge and moving through another alley, a new street was seen. Well, this was the only way to enter and exit the street, eyes seemed to be watching their every movement. They finally stopped in front of an old house.

* * *

They moved to a simple looking flat. The boy shuffled for the keys, their journey until here was a quiet one, they were both ostracized by society after all. The house seemed abandoned and the quietness was rather eerie as it was getting dark. The door creaked open giving a musky smell. The room was dusty.

Two skeletons laid on the sofa in the back room.

The room was mostly empty. It had a fridge and a television. Other than those things, it was barren. The color of the floor was blood red. The ceilings were milky white. While the walls had splashes of crimson and tomato red. It was also adorned with scratches.

The boy went inside and dragged the sofa out. He held their wrists for a minute. No pulse. Whispering a sorry, he moved to the fresh corpse.

He then made the body sit. His eyes despairing as he checked for a pulse for the 10th time, finding none, yet again…

He shut the door and knelt down beside the body and spoke, his voice strained.

**"I won't acknowledge it** … Or else what would I do now?"

Days passed and rumors grew-

'The place near the corner of Namimori seems to be haunted. I heard noises from it the other day.  **The place has been abandoned, you know. It's been that way for 15 years now'**

'that... I knew there was something wrong with .. that. It seems that.. that psycho is collecting  **bodies**  in there!'

There were fearing and scorned gazes directed at the boy. The object of attention seemed unfazed. It was a daily occurrence after all.

The boy opened the door and greeted his savior. The room stunk and the body seemed to have begun rotting. Insects lied around the body in different regions of the room. They were killed to have tried to consume the body. The corpse seemed to have yellowed, muscles seemed to be deteriorating.

Yet the scene didn't phase the boy. He wished for an eternity…

Even if he should remain ignorant.

He moved to the skeletons and held their wrists.  _No pulse._

He went as usual and knelt beside the boy and check for a pulse, none again. He rarely left the house. When he did, it was to get repellants and food.

There were bills and letters stuffed in the door opening. Some of them were for maintenance and room rent. Others for notices to get back to school.  **The last were death threats…**

A week later, the hands of the young corpse seemed to be layering. Its body seemed to that of a bird. Hollowed and holed, the boy thought that his dear friend finally could be as free as one.

He checked for a pulse, yet again. It was a cycle. Check for a pulse,  _none._ Check for the skeletons' pulse _, none._

Sadly, even with its upgraded body,  _it couldn't fly._  It was held captive by an overly attached boy, who just couldn't let go.

He went closer and spoke softly,

" _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I can't let you go…_  even if it was  _me_  who got you into this state. But, I don't want to see you gone from my life. It's a selfish request, but you always did try granting all my wishes. You … really shouldn't have. It's because of me, you lived with your eyebrows scrunched up in worry ."

He chuckled and continued,

"You were always too nice for your own good. You should learn a thing or two from the people in Namimori…"

Silence ensued as his face slowly morphed into panic,

" _NO! You have to stay with me!_  I decided to stay away from the others. Too many have died. I won't let anyone get hurt anymore! So please, _I'm begging you, stay with this lonely 16-year-old child!_ "

Trying to calm down, he rushed to the back room and brought some cards.

He went and carried the other skeletons, treating them like they were more fragile than glass, more precious than his own life. He made them sit in a circle and started cutting the deck.

Pretending to be cheerful, he spoke out merrily, his voice scratchy-

"Let's play old maid!"

The next week, he bought ingredients and made a mixture to preserve the skeletal parts of the body.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I couldn't make the body embalming mixture. It was too expensive. I can't sell my organs, Hib- I'm sorry, I don't have the right to say that name, right?"

He laughed self deprecatingly,

"I'll at least prevent you from turning to dust, like…"

His bangs shadowed his eyes

This was why he never tried to clean his floors or room. So that, they stayed with him

He checked for a pulse,  _nothing..._

The third week, most of the skin had been shed from the body. The hair had been fallen on to the ground.

He stayed the whole day applying the paste to the nooks and corners of the body.

* * *

The very next day,

A white haired man sat on the sofa ,greeting the child rather cheerfully when he returned from shopping.

The young boy became extremely hostile and shifted towards the skeleton,

"What do you want?!" he hissed.

"My ,my ,is that how you treat a guest? This poor old man has come to see how his favorite grandchild is faring. I see you've reached a level where you need a straight jacket" the man said, eyes looking quite disgusted at the state of the other's room.

"Don't feed me bullshit. Why .are. you. here?" he gritted out.

"Why, I've come here to give you a reward for a job complete."

The boy's jaw felt cold. He couldn't breathe for air. He screamed out.

"This wasn't meant to happen!"

The other treated his outburst with nonchalance,

"Funny how fate works, right? Don't hold back, no matter how it happened, it's still a job complete."

"KAWAHIRA! Don't test my patience!"

"I see that you're upset, child. Your current style of living makes you useless for me. You're going insane" he said, looking at the skeleton in distaste.

His face immediately morphed into the very epitome of cheerfulness and he continued,

"So I decided to help you. I'll give you a gift" the man said chuckling and smiling gleefully.

The boy looked so lost and so lonely at that moment. He then grew firm and said,

"What's the catch?"

"Oh? You hurt this old man. This old man has no such motive, you see" he feigned mock hurt.

"…" the boy looked distrustful, he didn't want to let the immortal get away with everything he wanted to do.

"Ahem, so getting back to the topic, I'll send you to an alternate universe to reunite you with your friends. None of them survived right? " he said mockingly.

"You're wrong! Hib-" then the boy promptly shut up, realization dawning on his face and tried covering up his mistake.

"The offer you gave, is it actually possible?" he whispered.

"Boy, I don't lie" Kawahira whispered in his ear and passed him a locket.

"Open the locket and touch the picture to move between the two dimensions, 'your world' and their world." He mocked again.

His eyes darkened at the reason for why the locket existed. Snapping himself out of it, he said.

"… Are they alive?"

"Yes, peachy."

"… Is it actually possible."

"Why yes, after all, you don't belong in this world" the man tapped the other in a fake pitying gesture and vanished.

Looking dazedly at the dreamlike possibility of a world where they all lived, he looked at the far distance, eyes dulling at his current situation and whispered,

" Five left. I'll protect them, even if it means avoiding the air they breathe… because at least they can breathe" his voice cracked.

But the tears never fell.

He couldn't be allowed to cry.

He had sinned.

And there was no one who could make him forgive himself.


	2. To clip a bird's wings

Yamamoto spent a lot of time in the terrace, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. He felt the nonexistent wings on his back and felt impatient to give them a try- set them free. His feet urged him to try, moving towards the fence- only to separated by the boor- the creaky, rusted fence ( _barely an opposition_ )

Yamamoto Takeshi was a lad who had a team backing him up with their hopes and dreams. He was cheered on by his bystander classmates and teachers who could see the huge potential and talent that the boy possessed. He could see the sheer excitement and the sparkles and glimmer their dull eyes would take for each home run he could easily achieve. They'd be on the edge of their seats, waiting with impatient eagerness, jittering in wonder and amazement at what Yamamoto Takeshi would have in store for them next. They're in close proximity with a rising star- someone they couldn't hope to reach closer.

Thus, a slight distance was born. It was like they couldn't see any of the lad's faults.

_Dismal grades._

"Yamamoto-kun, you couldn't solve the problem? It can't be helped... haaah. Looks like our baseball team's ace put all his eggs in one basket, eh?

I'll let it slide, but you gotta sweep them clean the next game, ok?"

"Man, you've got supplementary again? Get a grip dude, haha. We need our ace in the next matches.

Luckily, the baseball gods are with you all the way, right?"

_Fake smiles._

"Yamamoto-kun's always so happy, right? I'm slightly envious. How are you so carefree?"

"Oi, there's no use asking that to our idiot. All those problems just fly over his head, haha."

_Never inviting anyone, never making any special bonds- yet being surrounded by people he barely kept track off._

"Yamamoto-kun, you never really hang out with a specific group, right?"

"Idiot, this guy's got a wide heart- he'd not like you who's picky about who you hang out with."

"I was just wondering about Satou. Wasn't he always with Yamamoto until lately?"

"That guy's just feeling down lately. He'll bounce back sooner or later. Leave him be.

Yamamoto's got his hands full with baseball. How're you going to take responsibility if he flubbed a hit because you filled his head with this nonsense?

Everyone's looking forward to the next match!"

_A competitive spirit that won't yield to anyone_

"Yamamoto, take it easy on me, will ya? I'm not a baseball genius like you are. Heck, I'm in the go home club."

"Wow, Yamamoto-kun. You single-handedly crushed that team... look at their mugs, hahaha.

As expected of our ace!"

"You went overboard, dude! It was like seeing someone pull a grenade against a fly!"

"Maybe you need to pace yourself. Save your strength for opponents that really need that power."

"It's no use telling this idiot that. He's got no valve nor a filter... Probably can't fathom what they are.

And despite that, he's led us to the Koshien twice. What a monster, am I right?!"

_A big fish in a small well- but unable to escape to the seas._

"Yamamoto, we can't handle this kind of training regime. Don't use your standards on us."

"This guy's different from us. He's on a whole new level."

"I'm looking forward to what our ace will bring us next! Don't let us down, champ."

Yamamoto's smile was their source of light. Even if the boy himself was fumbling around in darkness- a darkness that the people around him would never know (after all, he was their lighthouse. But who or what was Yamamoto's guiding light and compass?)

* * *

The jock stood on the terrace, his gaze looking unflinchingly on the sight beyond the fragile guard that separated them.

The lad would sometimes see his mirror image glance back at him with a cheerful look- one truer than the ones he'd sport, and then dash and jump over the fence into greener territories. After all, the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.

Yamamoto was caged from that view. Despite his potential and talents, he didn't know about the prerequisites that would unravel the path to the new level he was supposed to go into. What was needed to unlock his venture into the next stage?

Right now, everything was in a standstill. It was getting so bad, that sometimes, his teammates would give him a glimpse of a look of disappointment. Yet, neither they nor he knew what was missing.

He was a flat figure who couldn't fathom what the 3rd dimension was. He simply couldn't see the bigger picture.

These days, he could feel the anxious gaze of one of his classmates- the dismal, useless, hopeless, Dame-Tsuna. It made him feel impatient.

He wanted that look to fall off from that face. He hadn't fallen off that far that he needed  _that kid_  to worry about him. Or did he really fall that far from the throne that everyone put him on?

His grip on his bat tightened every so slightly, and his eyebrows wrinkled further.

His tension had been the reason, for his all-time low batting score that day.

Energy circled and crowed impatiently around his body and they mother henned around his conscience- increasing his anxiety.

"Yamamoto, take a break and cool off. You're not like yourself right now. These scores are horrible..."

and yet, the lad did score more than the rest of his team. He was only losing to himself.

That was what was frustrating for the boy.

He'd been only fighting battles and wars with himself, and yet, he'd been on a  _losing_ streak! It was one damn person. How could it be that  _he was his own greatest rival?_ It was ridiculous.

-And Sawada...!

The next day, he bumped against the brunette a bit stronger than he would have on accident. It was for that instant that the look of incessant worry washed off. It brought out a sense of relief which lasted for a second.

That immediately changed into that of guilt when he was faced with the look of incredulity that the brunette sported. It probably didn't help that Yamamoto's feelings of malicious satisfaction showed itself on his mug.

'This is going to leave a bitter aftertaste.' he thought, immediately avoiding the situation by practically running away from the scene.

Spurred on by Yamamoto's rejection of the brunette, the fallen kid was bullied on more harshly than usual. Which only added on to the feelings of frustration of the jock who continued to do horribly for the following three days.

Tsuna's badly concealed look of increasing concern imprinted itself as one of the many demons that Yamamoto fruitlessly carried around with him. It was because there were no exits or means of finding out how to deal with such devils, with him being  _unique._

Yamamoto rattled the fence and subjected the poor thing to his rage induced strength. It creaked for mercy

Then it turned out that his opponents didn't like propagating their ever increasing losing streak, that they were even willing to play dirty. They cornered and took care of their biggest threat- Yamamoto.

The jock came to school next time with a sling around his arm. His supporters immediately noticed and proceeded to shriek and create a ruckus.

"What happened Yamamoto?!" "Who did this to you?!" "Did you get into an accident?!" "Did you get into a fight?!"

"What'll happen to our match now?!"

"Why couldn't you have kept yourself safe, Yamamoto?!"

"Don't you know how much we rely on you?!"

"You're our ace, you know! How about you have some awareness about that?!"

"How long will it take for you to recover?!

Dammit! You'll even lose touch during recovery..."

"What?! That's bad. Yamamoto's in a rut these days... Being off during this important time would screw this up even more!"

"I heard that being fractured would mean that his bones would be weaker than before. Doesn't that mean that Yamamoto'd never be able to reach his true potential this way?! You single-handedly ruined yourself, Yamamoto! What're we going to do now?"

Suddenly, the sling felt heavier than before and his surroundings felt darker than when he came to school. They slung themselves over his shoulders and felt devastated when the person they flung and pinned their hopes on, got into this condition. This wasn't supposed to happen to their idol, their all-powerful, invincible Yamamoto Takeshi.

_**He wasn't supposed to be only human.** _

Yamamoto's smile automatically flew into its place, trying to do some damage control.

"Hey, it's all right, guys-"

"No, it's not all right, idiot! You don't get the gravity of the situation!" they furiously retorted. They couldn't accept the fact that he could be fine with this revelation. Even though,  _he was supposed to be their hero!_

Yamamoto's default lie fell into place as tensions increased at his supposed naivety and foolish optimism. They didn't trust him to be capable of recovering because the lad couldn't mimic their sentiments- opting to be smiling away like an idiot. They thought he couldn't comprehend the consequences of this event.

With their every explanation and mollycoddling, Yamamoto's self-defense mechanism only strengthened- the smile going as strong as ever. The people around him couldn't realize the fake for what it was, especially since the real smile never really appeared- they didn't have a basis for comparison.

All of a sudden, Tsuna's chair gave away and the brunette fell onto the floor with a shriek, taking the stuff on the nearby tables with him- successfully breaking the impasse in front of the other.

Yamamoto slightly flinched away from the brunette on instinct, but this only added fuel to the fire and the angry mob released their rage and fury on the only target capable of dispersing their negative energy.

The jock wanted nothing to do with the brunette who could seemingly see through his carefully crafted persona and illusion. He wanted the latter to persist and eventually become a beautiful lie-  _one real enough to overtake the truth._

* * *

It took a couple of days for Yamamoto's venture into the terrace to reach a level until the people who found him there gave a bloodcurdling scream when they found him on the other side of the fence. Following that, more of them crowded into the scene like bees to honey. They were close enough for their voices to turn into a motley of noise, but far enough to be away for at least an arm's distance.

It made the lad feel like they were world's apart- just like usual. It seemed like they were intent on holding the status quo even in this kind of situation.

Yamamoto's eyes got drawn to the dull auburn eyes of Dame-Tsuna. He was the only one not making any sound, despite seemingly unable to hold his silence. His face was pale in terror, but he didn't seem all there, seemingly lost in a distant memory. His body seemed tense and ready to move forward, yet he couldn't move because of some unknown force.

Tsuna had a lot to say. He had words he wanted to say to his Yamamoto Takeshi.

_'Humans can't actually fly, you know. We don't have wings and when we want to have them, we've built them in the form of planes._

_We're meant to be grounded and we can't handle heights.'_

_But Alas, he could only stare in anguish at the head left behind, separated from its body. He had been too late, he didn't notice the signs soon enough._

_When he was rushing over, he reassured himself, hoping that his words would reach the other again, since it talked the other off from falling from the roof in their middle school years._

_It had all been his fault. He had ended up coercing Yamamoto into joining the Mafia, into killing people, into living happily in a surrounding filled with murderers- murderers who gave up being civilians for Tsunayoshi. Now the jock's dad had been killed, as a consequence of his inept decision-making skills. And the Vongola was being hunted like rabbits in hunting season._

_He entered the decrepit former home of the former baseball jock, hoping that he'd not been too late._

_But, the upper floor had given itself away from the sudden impact of the poor miserable fool who stood in that place, making the soul fall a whopping three storeys. His eyes trailed above, shaking in realization when he saw a frayed rope. His body started shivering uncontrollably as he fell into his knees. But his curiosity, his optimism wanted him to check for the possibility that Yamamoto- no, the person, whoever it was, survived._

_His vision swam in front of him as his breath became shaky. He crawled towards the wreckage and saw wood pierce a headless body, purple near the place where the neck tore off the neck. Blood pooled around the severed head. Eyes popped out of the sockets as the other's mouth was open, choking from the lack of breath. The face's pallor was pale, snot and tears- fluids leaking from any hole open there._

_When his mouth opened to let out a scream, a hand covered it to shush him. The brunette dumbly looked at the person who owned that hand- Kawahira. The other's eyes shined in slight amusement at the other's predicament._

_"Did you know, if the body was hung from a height tall enough, it's head could get detached when suspended from that height?_

_Also, you'll get blood on your shirt if you continue to cradle it."_

_When he saw that comprehension didn't dawn on the other's face, he sighed and clarified._

_"You're wearing white, aren't you? It'll be difficult to wash off. Plus, the expression on your rain guardian isn't pleasing to the eyes, in any way?_

_...Or else what? You're going to have a skull collection with the rest of your guardians as they succumb to misfortune? Are you planning on being a noveau Hamlet?"_

_Tsuna had to retort to the man who didn't even leave him his tutor's body to mourn over. But, he couldn't bring his mouth to respond to anything. Everything felt strangely detached, like as if what was happening was in a different hyperplane. Seemingly bored with the Mafia boss's inaction, the antique shop owner made his own source of entertainment._

_"Come to think of it, you think that people can exceed their limits and be adaptive to any situation right? I think that isn't so._

_Let's see... Take the dead body of your rain guardian, for example. Hey, use the sun flames from your sky flames on him. It's fine even if it's a weaker version of the actual sun flames."_

_Like a puppet on strings, Tsuna listened to the voice instructing him in a daze._

_The skin started degrading rapidly, leaving only the bones behind, making Tsuna flinch in horror as his shivering increased- the scene of his best friend deteriorating imprinting itself deep into the man's mind._

_Unaware or intentionally, Checkerface callously moved forward and brought the skeleton's body close to the brunette, ignoring the other's discomfort and increasing hysteria. He then pushed directly on its spine and curling it to its very extreme._

_"This is to its very physical limit, the flexibility of the human body. Any more, and it'll break, Tsunayoshi. That's why, maybe next time, if you're aware of your limits, you won't make mistakes that cost this dearly."_

_He smiled sweetly, as his poisonous words dripped into the brunette's brain, infecting its notions and ideas, leaving a damn of tears breaking- leaving a broken man who could only embrace a skeleton and it's nonintact head in grief._

_"You wanted to reject your ancestry, your future, your destiny, your fate, wash away you and your guardian's blood-stained hands. You were too greedy, you were too confident in your abilities. You can't escape from your history, Vongola. Nor can you play God and get whatever you want._

_Now, look what you've done. You weren't satisfied even with leaving them as people, you even reduced them into skeletons. How much will you devour, Tsunayoshi? Do you want to control them until they turn into ashes?"_

_Tsuna's head replayed the scene where skin devolved into flesh, flesh melted into blood before finally leaving only bones behind. The jock's organs were all for display- seeming like a textbook perfect display of the human anatomy._

_The brunette gagged and emptied out what little he had for breakfast._

_"How cruel, puking at the truest form of your best friend. Seems like you're not the all-encompassing sky that they've made you out to be._

_Have a heart, Tsuna."_

_The words seeped deeper and deeper into the brunette's soul as he pushed a hand, blocking his mouth and swallowing any more that tried to come out._

_"Don't turn your eyes away from what you're friend became Tsuna. After all, weren't you the one who used those sun flames? At least see your decision until the bitter end."_

_Tsuna's neck hurt and his head pounded with the way the day turned and changed. He willed his fingers not to exert so much pressure that they'd indent themselves into the jock's head, but the mass was fragile and exposed to nature. It was rotting as he froze, unable to catch his bearings._

_He knew he made the mistakes that day, but he needed to salvage the situation. He needed to organize the funeral, and give the jock a respectable farewell._

_But then, a thought occurred to him, the other was in no form to be made into a respectable state, that and..._

_His eyes teared as his heart hurt painfully at the thought of bidding farewell. Maybe, just for a little bit, he'd keep the other around, until things become stable enough for him to be able to bid the other farewell._

_As things were right now, there would be no peace in the ceremony, as the people would be too preoccupied to focus on the funeral itself._

_As he made excuses to prolong the inevitable, Kawahira snickered as he understood the other's intentions, and muttered,_

_"Pervert"_

_Tsuna's eyes shook at that, but he stayed silent at the accusation._

It was happening again, now. History was repeating itself.

But Tsuna didn't know what to say to the other. Things had drastically changed from when he tried the first time, and he know longer believed in what he did back then. He no longer knew what it was that that the other should live for, nor did he want to trigger the other into living as a vital part into what he would become. He wanted the jock to stay as far as he could from the Mafia.

What could he do for the other, when his own life was dangling on a thread, and he was unable to make up his mind on whether to let it go or not.

Seeing the hollow, haunted eyes of the brunette- something clicked in place for the jock, as the other turned away from the crowd, ready to let it all go.

Tsuna stood right there, a sinking feel of glooming that fell the same time that the boy fell down.

"Why do all the Yamamoto Takeshi I meet want to fly?"

Then, pushed by the excited crowd, he was swept to the ground floor, into the area where the mangled body of Yamamoto Takeshi lay.

His neck stayed broken, his spine twisted in an unnatural angle, his fractured arm disjoint from the rest of the other's body, and his limbs out of their sockets.

Blood pooled into Tsuna's vision as the people around him grew louder and louder, but none of them approached the corpse, disgusted by how the star looked now.

Tsuna's lips twisted as he bit harshly into them, as the smell of copper permeated into the air. Sweat and another pungent smell started intermixing into it, since all the muscles of the jock started loosening after he died.

His fingers dug into his arms as his head swayed, yet he was still unable to accept the other's death.

It's been so long since he started that disgusting habit of keeping their dead bodies as keepsakes, so much so that he was more familiar with them dead than with them alive.

But still, he couldn't accept the fact that Yamamoto Takeshi was gone to the world.

His world blacked out, as the prayer and the wish he chanted fervently and feverishly into his mind took form into dying will- and gave him another chance to redo it. It would give him an infinite chance to redo things, after all, Kawahira's whimsy and will become incorporated into his flames- it gave him the power to redo things to his whole satisfaction.

Maybe it would be better if Checkerface let things flow their course since the haunted, distorted soul of Tsunayoshi made him feel debilitated from having the power to make a change for the better.


	3. Liquid courage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there. I guess this story became my new place to vent, now that my other story Phoenix Tears is moving towards a completely different direction, and it can no longer become the container of my negativity- especially since I don't feel the same way as I did when I wrote that. It's just that things are going terribly with my life right now, and there's nowhere for my feelings to go. It doesn't really matter to anyone else but myself, I suppose.
> 
> If nothing else, maybe this is a holla from me to the future me, to let her know that I once felt like this- or maybe it's a signal flare to see if there are other people who felt like this? Though I might as well be shouting in the void, huh?

Tsunayoshi stared silently at the corpse of the jock as memories flooded into his mind, showing him the time when the two of them were middle schoolers. Yamamoto Takeshi had called him a savior for reaching out to him in the rooftop, but the boy had no idea that things were backward.

 _Dame-Tsuna_. It was the moniker that stuck with the hopeless little boy who lived like he couldn't be left unsupervised. He meandered through his house and made it seem like it needed to be baby-proof for him to live without being a hazard to himself. Needless to say- if he couldn't manage his everyday life without ease, struggling through it, his academics, athletism and social life were a train wreck.

He was the example they'd contrast themselves against. There was really nothing going for the brunette- no matter what he tried, it was for nothing.

"Dame-Tsuna, just stop already. If you just stay still, we can manage just fine. Else, we'll have to clean after your mess- and I don't have the time or energy to do that."

Somehow... It was accepting the fact that he couldn't do much, that his potential amounted to nothing- that felt like it was slowly choking him. His surroundings were muting itself in his presence. Regardless of how beautiful people and the world could be, it meant nothing to a failure like him- someone who couldn't reach out to that part of the world, even if he sliced off his arms and javelin-threw it.

His eyes could burn in the humiliation of his existence, a failed experiment from Mother nature, or perhaps a scapegoat to bring comfort to other people- at least they knew of a person hitting rock bottom- crushing it and diving deep underground; and they'd never be him.

His focus and concentration wavered, as those voices- blending in with the disappointed looks and words of frustration from his peers- haunted and spun around him, making webs that he couldn't break through. He felt cracks in his face, he became a puppet in its truest form seeing that he could feel the foreign sensation of a loose and shabby smile. It was utterly alien in its presence, like seeing an absentee father.

Dame-Tsuna was a fool, an idiot, a doofus, a nincompoop, a nitwit, a madman, a reject, a naysayer, a nutcase, a hazard, trash, garbage, cancer, a nutjob, a little bitch, a fucker, a little shit... the list grew long and longer. Sometimes, he himself didn't know if it was he who gave him those names or was it from the others.

There were some basic activities which he was to follow, to be a basic human being, and to grace society by following some basic mannerisms and etiquette. Was it good to be so spontaneous that he couldn't say for certain that there were things he would definitely do in a day?

His classmates gave him the stinkeye for having the gall to stay in their close proximity, smelling like that, looking like that, acting like that. It was shameful. It was demotivating and brought the class morale down. The scorn in his teacher's eyes as he openly criticized such a student did nothing for Tsuna.

For he was the idiot who couldn't muster up the energy to act like a normal human being. All he could do was mesmerizingly stare at the boring, even and uniform pattern on the floor. He had absolutely no imagination-  _how could someone do the equivalent of watching paint dry?_

His limbs weighed heavily down onto him- he desperately needed to lie down- he couldn't support himself physically, mentally or psychologically.

Then, his mother thought enough was enough- and sent him to therapy.

There he realized that regardless of the incentive offered to his company, there was no way anyone would be proactive in any form of relationship with him. He had quietly looked on the person, the psychologist in charge for him as he listed his problems- all that filth manifesting in dark, drudging slime. His every word made that dark, grimy, black slime leak like puke and they curled and seductively mingled with the air around him- poisoning it. It blinded his vision and corrupted the surrounding in its lust and desire to conquer.

He abruptly kept his mouth shut, to stop himself from bringing further havoc- and then regarding the pause as a prompt for him to speak, the psychologized advised. He advised that the lad had a lot to work upon- bewildering the patient. Just where on earth was he going to get the energy to fix himself?

There was a long list of suggestions being thrown at him as the doctor's eyes wandered towards his schedule. It was a planner stuck with post-its and schedules for various patients- other lost souls who came to this man in hopes of some sort of salvation. His words flew right of his mouth with graceful ease. These were situations he had been trained to handle- quick, simple and brisk; straight to the point.

Tsuna searched through the empty air, wondering if some of them hid themselves in there, or maybe there was going to be a delayed response. But there was nothing to come- but he wanted to hear something else, the silence was deafening, his questions that he had inserted in his long monologue- an epic in sound- seemed like a droning voice and it was embarrassingly long. It wasn't met with a response that satisfied him. It didn't contain the level of detail he subconsciously expected.

It felt awfully short, and they seemed to whisk away his breath and made his eyes burn. The doctor then pointed towards the clock, signaling that their session was to stop here for now. Tsuna felt like he tore his heart open to the professional, only to realize that in the long run, he was of no consequence to this doctor.

Perhaps, holistically speaking, he had saved countless people from their mental demons. But the truly troublesome ones needed more resources and more time to work upon. They could be somewhat ignored or sidestepped to give results. This doctor of the mind was ultimately, just another person. He had to pay bills, look out for himself and had to work for a living. His living just involved people's psychological problems. Why should he care if a patient was drowning from his interaction?

Maybe his suffering was just so well hidden under his supposed poker face. With more people than ever before on this planet, even if he broke down publically, people would simply label him as mentally unstable and move on. They'd scorn him for not fitting right in, for not cooperating with society, for being such high maintenance and being an absolute freak and a weakling. Tsuna felt that Hibari might need a newer class just for him because he was no match for the people he called as herbivores,

The faucets to his tear ducts were broken, and his throat felt oddly choked for days on end, and weeks clustered together.

Society didn't want anyone to quit on them, any physical manifestations of weakness were deplored upon- they were cowards, the whole lot of them. Yet Tsuna didn't know what to do if he couldn't live, why couldn't he choose death. The sneering faces and the look they'd give him if he survived, would stain his future- because you weren't allowed to compromise your own safety. Then they'd take your agency from you, and you'd have one less piece of yourself.

He had spoken on and on about himself- the one subject he didn't want to broach upon, feeling utterly selfish and egoistic. He was being self-centered, but for what, for whom? Like there was something worth talking about himself. Like there was something redeemable about himself. But there was nothing else to talk about to the person offering that service, was there?

For all the people who said that money made the world go round, he felt that he could use himself as the example that showed that regardless of what you offer them- unless you're blessed as that type of person- they wouldn't even give you a face to face or influence in the slightest.

He felt melodramatic in that his person was all that he could possess, especially since there were no buyers for all the offers that he had made so far. But he himself didn't want the defect in his possession. Regardless of what decorated his surroundings, nothing else was truly his. It was the stuff his parents had funded- and his classmates showed that even if he carved his name in them- nothing would be his.

He had lost so many of his possessions, saw many of them drowning in the school fountain, graffitied items- the survivors that lived through being borrowed from him sometime looked unrecognizable. His hands shivered at his foreign touch from the thoughts that said someone else merrily used them as they pleased.

He wanted to peel his skin for being the dirty pathogen that would infect everything and everyone. Misery plagued him, and misery was his only company.

If he could gain some form of entitlement, he needed to be worthy enough to be granted that. But when he tried to envision that future, it all seemed so bleak.

That was why, when he saw Yamamoto on the other side of the fence- with his eyes staying focused on his figure- a myriad of emotions whirled around him.

There was a sense of guilt that he might have been the primary cause for the other's state of mind.

There was a sense of sadness from the idea that such a bright being would get snuffed out- especially since the other had so much to live for and had so much potential.

Then there was a creeping sense of exhilaration- that they two, being such polar opposites, could share something common. That they both were longing for death, that they felt discarded and couldn't see through the fog.

Tsuna could find a companion in the other. If he died here, Tsuna would be alone again.

He felt alive for once, since there was a person who put him in their sight. Regardless of incentives, there was a person who cared, even if it was for his own needs and goals. Even if he didn't particularly care for the other, his eyes followed his being, his ears were hearing his words and Tsuna was given someone's time of the day; they were precious seconds.

So he clung on to the fool of a jock, and had such a tight grip that he didn't realize that his touch broke through skin- right through his soul and essence. He didn't even care anymore that if he had to keep something around- it was something that always required his initiative- something that was never a cooperative endeavor.

Tsuna always tango'd with death- he was enamored and they danced through many occasions. Even if circumstances changed, it's perfume stuck around him- since they such frequent companions.

It made sense that by lingering around Yamamoto Takeshi, the perfume's scent would fall onto the baseball jock. It permeated through the other's skin and made him reach his end in such a way, at such a young age.

* * *

When Tsuna saw his classmates rush towards the ceiling, making a commotion- a repeat of the unfortunate incident- he moved towards the disciplinary committee room and blatantly took the mattress right in front of the committee head, Hibari Kyoya.

The blood that pooled around the jock in the last run pulled on something deep within him.

"Yamamoto-kun's on the rooftop. He's going to jump."

The hostile look of the prefect immediately changed to that of alertness, but Tsuna didn't bother with any more pleasantries. He was not trained to have a good physique at this point of time.

Thus he began dragging the mattress towards the staircase, only to stumble headfirst from slipping the very top step. The mattress went down with him and had become the very first bed who had bedded a human- instead of the other way around.

Hibari looked unamused at the stumble, and he was very vocal about it-

"It seems that you'd die first instead of Yamamoto Takeshi. What a riot- the  _hero_  dying before arriving at the scene?"

He then took the mattress, snorting at the other.

"Didn't you want to save someone with the mattress? It looked like you planned on making it the killer for your death."

When Tsuna tried to salvage the situation, he tripped again into the mattress- making the prefect lose his grip, and riding it to the next floor.

Hibari looked miffed at the ruckus, but didn't want to deal with it anymore and wrapped the brunette into a sushi roll and moved them into the ground near the place of the commotion.

Tsuna was then finally free from being the metaphorical tuna filling in the sushi, absent-mindedly commented,

"Hibari-san, do you think one mattress is enough to absorb the impact of a person falling from 4-5 storeys?"

The other looked utterly pissed at the notion that this whole venture was absolutely useless, but just then,

Yamamoto's gravity-defying body flew right into the brunette's body- making him the primary body pillow- with the mattress only getting leftovers of what was it's primary purpose in this situation.

As Tsuna's lungs immediately protested at the sudden impact, the sight of the brunette giving out a moan of pain made the prefect vindictively satisfied.

Yamamoto looked at the crushed Sawada with bewilderment, only feeling more shocked at the nasty laugh the demon of Namimori was giving at that instant.

"I think my limbs are going to quit on me right now and I'm begging my spine to stay.

I've a feeling that your arm's not going to be able to keep you down, Yamamoto-kun. It's still hanging around after all.

Mine wants to leave me and break up immediately." Tsuna grumbled feeling like his limbs were dislocating and fractures were going to be imminent.

Yamamoto felt oddly comforted at that notion. Hibari's guffaws at the brunette's statements only added to that relief.


End file.
